A Month's Worth of Fluff Stories-A Movember Special
by Unconsciousdirt
Summary: As Preseason Begins, each champion is forced to stay at the Institute of War. But when tragedy strikes, what will the champions do without their hair-care products? Contains suggestive language and scenes.


When it began, it seemed so comical…

 **xXxXx**

It was Preseason at Valoran's Institute of War. As had been done the past four seasons, each champion was called upon to participate in scrimmages. The Meta, as the Summoners called it, would shift considerably as the higher-ups in the Institute began to grant certain Marksman champions special privileges they had never been able to use in the rift before. Corki outfitted his R.O.F.L with new boosters. Caitlyn was now able to use her full sharpshooting potential at longer ranges. Kog'Maw was now allowed to spew much quicker than before, giving a new definition to "projectile vomiting."

In addition to the new freedom of Marksmen were several new and unique items to test, as well as the keystone masteries. These ambient buffs from a champion's Summoner brought new forms of battle to the lanes as each one could turn the tide of a fight. A champion landing an especially precise shot would give bonus healing or even a bolt of lightning. Supports now gained the ability to shoulder some of the damage their marksmen took and top laners could continuously refresh their health the longer they fought. The matches were much more fast paced and an early game mistake was costly.

For this reason, each champion was expected to live in the Institute's barracks for the next few months. Each Nation was given its own set of rooms to house each champion close to their fellow representatives. Independents were allowed to take any leftover rooms or even opt to camp in the surrounding areas, so long as they were easy enough to contact. However, these rooms did not come equipped with bathrooms or kitchens, so champions were forced to use the Institute's shower and cafeteria for their daily needs.

The League had hired a slew of new employees and chefs to cater to the needs of the champions. Each night, the fighters ate gourmet cuisine and soaked in an exquisite bathhouse. Housekeeping maintained nearly every champion's room, with a select few champions omitted for the safety of the servants. Room service was entirely complementary to the champions, with nearly any creature comfort they could ask for available and fully stocked. Except for one thing.

Hair care products…

When the league began to house over a hundred champions with very particular styles in their hair or fur, it had ordered more shampoos, dyes, and razors than even the most hairy man or most stylish woman would see in a lifetime. Unfortunately, the fleet of ships carrying the supplies was attacked by a gigantic dragon-shark. With Fizz staying at the Institute, no normal sailor could hope to survive the attack. The cargo was sunk, and Bilgewater reported an especially sweet-smelling sea-foam in the following weeks.

Many champions took the news with heavy hearts, but all resolved to do without. After all, they would only be at the Institute for a few short months.

How bad could it be?

 **xXxXx**

*Week One*

Yasuo was in a bad mood.

This was not saying much, however, as the vagabond was almost always in a bad mood. First it was the lack of his volumizing shampoo in his morning shower, now it was this. With nothing to keep it elevated, his hair dragged across the ground several feet behind him. It had been stepped on many times and had on more than one occasion already gotten him killed in the rift as it trailed from the brush. But as it seemed, each day held newer and stupider reasons to annoy him.

"Yasuo, oh Yasuo! Let down your hair!" chuckled Annie as she skipped to his left.

"Shut up," Yasuo said curtly, sheer force of will preventing his face from blushing in embarrassment.

"How many times do you brush it before bed each night? One hundred? One thousand?" Fizz said, flanking his other side.

"Shut. Up," Yasuo said again, face beginning to turn red from rage.

Walking in silence for a few seconds, he began to feel his hair being tugged on. His rage about to break, he turned to yell at the smartasses but was struck dumb.

Fizz had wound up the hair in his trident like spaghetti. With the biggest grin he could, Fizz sang.

"When the moon, hits your eye, like a big, pizza pie, that's amore!" He sang before falling over in laughter. Annie started to giggle, but grew silent at seeing Yasuo's face.

If you asked an Ionian what words were echoing across the courtyard that day, they would turn beet red and begin singing hymns as if they had not heard you.

 **xXxXx**

*Week Two, Tuesday*

Early mornings.

Vi hated early mornings, but as a cop, you got used to them. Only a few other champions were up before the sun was and each seemed to stare as she passed. Maybe her hair was really messy this morning or maybe they had never seen a woman walk around in just a bra and pajama bottoms. Whatever reason, she didn't care.

Not being one for makeup, her morning routine was to brush her teeth, wash her face, and see if the thing in the mirror was ready to fight. On the third step, she looked up and saw something that made her suddenly understand the staring.

A blonde hair had made it through.

Cursing whoever had decided to send the hair products by water, she resigned herself for the ever-growing blonde parasite that would slowly take over her hair in the coming weeks. She was going to miss her pink. Damn those dragon-sharks. Damn them all. She would have to make sure to punch Fizz a bit harder that day.

Stepping out into the hallway, she noticed a few other champions had woken and were heading to the bathroom. Fiora's hair streak was still going strong, but she would feel the sting of natural hair color in a few days. Turning the corner towards her room, she saw Evelynn stepping out of Graves's room. Upon noticing her, the blue woman instantly disappeared, but not before Vi saw the blonde hair streaks in her impish hairstyle. This threw her for a loop.

She had seen which champions used hair dye on the notice the league had posted on the day of the horrible news. She and Fiora were the only ones to use pink hair dye, so Vi had assumed Evelynn's was natural. But this was not the first preseason for either of them, and Evelynn had never asked Vi to borrow any. Could Eve have broken into her room to steal the dye? No wonder Vi went through so much of it! Wait. No.

Even if Eve was borrowing without asking, Vi threw away far too many bottles of dye for even two people. She would have to borrow a pink ward from the rift, but she and Evelynn were going to have a talk/interrogation later.

A solid plan in action, she opened the door to her room and walked right into a very surprised Trundle. The two stared in silence, before Trundle said,

"Uh, I see you are out of hair-dye. Now I know you're thinking, 'I should police brutality him for breaking and entering.' But blondes have to stick together, ha ha, right? Uh, Right?"

Vi cracked her knuckles and shut the door.

 **xXxXx**

*Week Two, Friday Morning*

As the end of the second week approached, the champions were beginning to adjust to life without hair care products. Some of the male champions had opted to grow their beards and mustaches out. On the flipside, the female champions adjusted to life with hairier legs. It came to an understood agreement from both sides not to make fun of the other.

This morning, there was a new development.

Four champions waited on the summoning platform. They were a bit impatient, as they all wanted to get the match over with in time for a late brunch. Leona discussed strategy with Riven to make short work of the other team through a stun and wind slash combo. Vi bounced in place to get her blood running for fighting the jungle monsters. Katarina simply stretched, hoping she would get to roam early. Now all that was left was their marksman.

"Vi. Where is your partner? The match was supposed to start three minutes ago," Riven said, irritation clear in her voice.

"Chill, Riv. She's just running late. Kinda nice, actually. I get to lecture her for sleeping in for once," Vi said. At that moment the door opened and Caitlyn walked in.

"You will not. My partner you may be but I still outrank you. My apologies for my tardiness, ladies, but it seems there is not a single bloody razor to be found in this entire building," Caitlyn said, looking at the ground. Riven was adamant.

"You were worried about your legs? Some of us want to get something to eat, but the tackiest one of us can't go be bothered to show up on time because of some hairy- oh…" she said, trailing off.

Sitting right above Caitlyn's lip like a fuzzy brown caterpillar was a handlebar mustache.

"Listen, ladies. I will apologize again for being late but hope you will understand. Now can we finish this as early as possible? I would like to take my meal to my room afterward and I want to beat the crowd."

The blush on the cop's face was practically radiating heat.

"Uh yeah-ahem-yes Si-Ma'am, Cait, sir," Vi stuttered. Cop jargon could be unfortunate sometimes. Still though, there was something about Caitlyn that just made Vi want to listen today. The other women simply gawked, with Riven sporting a small blush of her own.

Caitlyn nodded. "Okay then, ladies. Lets have a good match."

"Right!" the other four responded instantly. An second later, they were in the Rift.

After buying starting items, each champion went to her lane. Caitlyn and Leona followed Vi to the Krugs, hoping to ease the stress on the jungler who would gank for them later, Summoners willing.

Leaving right before the larger beast fell, they found their opponents had already arrived. Draven, the Glorious Executioner, was dancing back and forth catching his axes after they bounced from the hapless creeps. His Fu Manchu had somehow grown more elegant with length and the showboating master shook his head to emphasize it. Close by was Zyra, who had begun to sprout little roots from her legs. Draven was, of course, talking about himself.

"And the great Draven manages to catch yet another axe with just the ends of his fingers. Everyone asks, 'Draven, what's your greatest achievement?' and Draven says, 'Staying humble through my fame!' That's right Zyra. So much talent, and yet still so humble," Draven said, hurling his axe at another creep.

"Indeed, Draven. If you were a flower, you would be _Amorphophallus titanum,_ " Zyra said with the subtlest hint of disdain.

"Ooh, Draven heard 'phallus' and 'titan' in there. Me likey!" he said.

As he moved to catch his next axe, a bullet whizzed by his hand. Looking up to see who dared to interrupt his streak, he saw Caitlyn and Leona arrive.

"Ah, so we are against Draven today, hmm? And Zyra to boot. Should be a short phase then, Leona," Caitlyn said haughtily.

Draven simply smiled, "Ah, but Draven feels in top form today, especially when he has three lovely ladies to look at while he's strutting his stuff. Now Officer, if you'd like to come by later, you don't even need a warren-uh…" He said trailing off, noticing Caitlyn's new mustache.

"Caitlyn thinks she will stay away, thank you. Now if you'll stop staring, my face is up her-oh…" she said, her eyes meeting his.

The two walked among the fighting creeps towards each other. Neither denied what was going to happen next.

"You know, Draven's not into dudes," he said, moving closer to her.

"Don't worry, love. I am," she said, throwing her hat on the ground.

Looking at each other up close, they dropped their weapons and embraced in a kiss. Leona and Zyra stood watching.

After a moment, Zyra turned to Leona, "Should…should we start making out, too?"

Leona simply yelled and bashed Zyra into the wall with her shield.

 **xXxXx**

*Week 3, Monday*

Fiora had fought in over twenty matches in the past two days, so the Summoners decided she should receive a day off. Fiora did not agree, as being told not to fight seemed denying a potential challenger. But she did not deny, she was growing a bit haggard with the constant fights.

Deciding to use her enforced day off to its fullest, she picked up her whetstone and began to hone the edge of her blade. Keeping its edge perfect was essential to her style. Precision meant knowing exactly how much friction the blade would have with each cut. For opponents like Malphite, this was hell on a blade.

Precision was the greatest asset of any duelist. Knowing how much time it would take to make a cut or thrust and return to ready was key so she would not be taken unaware. Her accuracy was so precise, she was the only woman in the League with smooth legs.

As she finished the blade to her perfect parameters, she looked at her clock. Only five minutes had passed. She collapsed onto her bed in exasperation.

"Ziz iz pointless! I am most relaxed when I am fighting. Why must I endure ziz torment?" she yelled.

"Would you like us to end it?" a sonorous female voiced asked.

Fiora sat up with a start, her sword at ready. Not one to be caught off guard, she was quick to correct herself in the face of the intruder she had not heard enter.

At the end of the bed were the Kindred, Lamb and Wolf. Fiora dropped her blade instantly and knelt before them.

"Eternal Kindred, I mean no disrespect. I waz simply surprised. You appeared so suddenly," she said.

"Death often catches beings unaware," Lamb said. Fiora's eyes widened.

"Iz it…Am I? Ok. Please, Lamb. Make it quick," Fiora said, closing her eyes and offering her chest like a true Demacian.

Lamb and Wolf shared a look before Wolf spoke.

"Oh good, now the surprise is gone for when you REALLY die!" he said, sarcasm apparent in his voice. Lamb laughed at her friend. Fiora was confused.

"Are you not here to end my life?" she asked.

"No child. That was simply a play on words. No, we are here to ask a favor," Lamb said.

"A favor?" Fiora asked, heart still racing. Kneeling once more, she said, "Whatever it iz, Kindred, name it and by my honor it shall be done!"

"We have watched your duels since you began. They are a very entertaining precursor to the end of life. We have noticed your precision, and must ask if it applies to other forms of blade as well," Lamb spoke.

"Of course. I am trained in many blade styles and knife fighting. Be it cutlass, rapier, or even dagger, name it and it shall be my tool," Fiora said.

"Shears," Lamb said.

Fiora had been caught off guard twice this day.

"Shears?" she repeated.

"YES, shears!" Wolf barked. "Look at Lamb! She needs to be sheared badly!"

Fiora lifter her eyes from the floor and got a closer look at Lamb. The lithe spirit's wool covering had slowly begun to grow in the past few weeks. She seemed softer than usual, with locks of wool hanging over her hooves. The wool which comprised her "hair" seemed to hang much lower than usual. Fiora had always knelt when the two appeared, so she had never noticed until now.

"I can, but I have quest-" she began

"GOOD, the shears are by the door. Hurry up!" Wolf said, moving to the corner. He lay on the ground and surveyed like a dog would.

Lamb moved over to the side of the bed, intending to lay on it so Fiora could work. Fiora could not help but noticed that the skipping motion Lamb used seemed to be the only way she could move. It was almost cute when they weren't trying to kill you. After a small jump, Lamb lay on her back so Fiora could start.

Picking up the shears, which she noticed were actually electric shears powered by HexTech magic, Fiora began to cut away the wool from Lamb's chest. The buzzing noise it made was rather loud.

"Would you mind if I asked a few questions?" Fiora asked.

"I have no qualms. Have you Wolf?"

"IS SHE DONE YET?!"

"Ask any question you have," Lamb said.

"Ok. So do you normally shear yourself, or did you have somevone before moi?" Fiora asked, lifting Lamb's leg to shear her hindquarters. The whole thing was very awkward for her.

"We had a human, yes. An old man living in the Freljord," Lamb said.

"A DELICIOUS coward he was," Wolf said from his corner.

"I see," Fiora said. These two were also good at killing conversation, it seemed. Not to mention, she did not want to be Death's personal shearer for the rest of her life. "So why come to me? Not zat I am not honored to do ziz, but zere are many ozers."

"We require someone with precision to do this. The old man was the one who maintained the Poros' wool. He was very gentle, yet precise," Lamb said fondly.

"Ah, zen may I suggest Irelia? She could probably do zis fas-"

"WE WILL NOT LET THE DEATHLESS TOUCH HER!" Wolf practically howled at her. Lamb's blue eyes seemed to stare her through. It was at this time Fiora remembered that Irelia would have died had Soraka not bound her soul to her blades. Apparently she had come close enough to count as resurrected. Hopefully, they would let the faux-pas slide.

"So, ah, Lamb. I am finished wiz your front. If you would roll over to your ozer side," Fiora said, pretending she had not just offended Death.

Apparently, all was forgiven, as Lambs glare dropped immediately as she switched to her stomach.

"Careful on this side, please. I am a little ticklish," Lamb said.

Fiora was caught off guard for a third time this day, a new record.

As Fiora went to work, a woman was walking cheerfully back to her room. Having just won her match in a landslide thanks to the new Thunderlord's Decree keystone mastery, Lux was in a very positive mood.

As she moved past Fiora's room, she could not help but notice the loud buzzing noise coming from under the door.

Dirty thoughts crossed her mind.

Did Fiora have someone in there? Who was the lucky guy? LUCKY GIRL? Ok. She had to find out.

Luxanna Crownguard wasn't an infiltrator for nothing.

Looking through the keyhole, she saw Fiora positioned over Lamb of the Kindred. She was holding a vibrating something over her and was moving it forward and back. The noise was muffled and Lamb's hindquarters arced up as she let out a moan. This was the first time Lux had ever heard a moan with no emotion. First time she had actually heard a female moan recently… Maybe she could take notes. Ezreal down on a bed and Lux on top of him with a vibrating-

Suddenly, the keyhole was a vibrant blue. Then the door exploded and Wolf was on her.

"You need hunting lessons, child!" he said, pinning her. Lamb looked up and Fiora was aghast. What must this have looked like?

"I didn't see much, I swear! And I don't care if you're into mutton busting, but if you could tell me where you got the…shears?" Lux asked.

It seemed like Ezreal wasn't the only champion getting punished that night.

 **xXxXx**

*Week 3, Tuesday*

Rengar was a prideful hunter. He stalked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Most never knew he was coming. However, sitting in bushes waiting for his kills left him with a persistent problem in the past few weeks. One he could easily fix with the proper shampoo, but in its absence, he had to endure. His greatest weakness.

Fleas.

He could see the heat from the blood they had stolen from him and he gnashed his teeth to remove every one he saw. But where he removed one, two more took its place. It was an endless battle.

On this day, he was a jungler for the blue team. He had just cleared the raptor camp and already had two kills and an assist under his belt. He was finally cleared to use the height of his stealth to kill. Given orders to attack the overzealous Vel'Koz in Nidalee's lane, he moved to the bushes to wait.

Nidalee, having just returned, took the jungle route and joined him.

"Let me know when you are going in. I'll assume cougar form and attack from behind," she said.

Rengar grew fearful for her.

"No. Don't become a cat. If you do, you will regret it," he said, beseeching her.

"If I don't, the gank won't work. Trust me, we can do it," Nidalee said, clearly upset.

Closing her eyes, she became a big cat of the jungle. At the same time, she sealed her fate.

Seeing the new host across from them, four fleas leapt from Rengar. Seeing them go, he tried to bite them from midair, but missed all of them. Landing on Nidalee, four would quickly become thousands.

Half an hour later, the match had concluded in defeat.

Nidalee had been unable to throw her spear straight towards the end and fell over itching herself. She knew that Rengar had been trying to warn her and wished she had listened.

Having two champions infested and many more who could be, the League doctors began to administer bleach baths daily for every furry jungler.

 **xXxXx**

*Week 4, Monday*

"Oh Hey, Rumble!" Teemo said, waving his arm.

Rumble the Mechanized Menace raised his arm in return. "Hey Teemo! Oh, uh, hey Tristana," he said, giving her a wink.

"Still trying out that new Snowday skin, huh? They usually get the effects right by now," Tristana said, commenting on the snowy condition of the blue furred yordle.

"Well, yeah, you know. Always something with those Summoners. Still though, I don't mind it much," he said, his eyes moving back and forth.

As it really happened, Rumble was not wearing a Snowday skin. That was just a very convenient excuse for what was really going on. With the destruction of the haircare products, Rumble lost his special prescription shampoo. Without it, he could do nothing to control his…dandruff.

"Wait…a snowday skin? I didn't think you were getting one. In fact, I'm sure of it," Teemo said, voice filled with suspicion.

"Uh, What do you mean? Of course I did! Where else would this snow come from?" Rumble demanded.

"I don't know, but Lulu told me Gnar is getting a skin. They usually don't do this for more than just one two yordles at a time. So if you're lying, I think it's high time you fessed up," Teemo said, getting in his face.

Rumble began to shrink under her gaze. Tristana watched helplessly. It was always hard when these two got together.

"Ok. Teemo, back off. If he doesn't want to say, he doesn't want to say. And he doesn't have to. Let's leave it alone," Tristana said. Although she was having trouble believing Rumble right now, he probably had a good reason for lying.

"Hmpf. Fine Trist. If you wanna trust him, that's fine by me. Let's head to the Mess," he said, marching towards the cafeteria.

Tristana looked at her despairing friend.

"Hey, if I were you, I'd go ask Zyra if she has any aloe. Use that a few times, and you won't be so snowy," She said with a wink.

Rumble raised his head a bit at that.

"Thanks Trist. I really appreciate it," he said, deciding this moment called for a hug.

Trist was having none of it.

"Ew, gross you sicko. Get your blizzardiness taken care of and then maybe I might want to hug you," she said, laughing as she followed after Teemo.

Rumble knew he should have seen that coming.

 **xXxXx**

*Week 4, Friday*

"Singed!" Leblanc yelled as she walked down the Noxian hallway.

She was on the warpath. The previous day, her Wicked Leblanc skin's magical dye job stuck, giving her the appearance of an actual sixty year old woman! She was only fifty-eight, damn it! But with the Summoners unable to fix it, the Black Rose Matron went to the only one who could.

The Mad Chemist known as Singed had been more than happy to mix her a vial of what was supposed to cure her hair problems. Well there was certainly no more problem.

Because of his potion, she had no hair!

Busting open his door, she leveled her staff at him.

"Look what you did to me! You were supposed to fix the problem not make it go away!" she screamed.

Singed laughed, "I believe your exact words were 'Get rid of this hair.' Now I have done just that. You'd think a Deceiver would be more careful with her words."

Leblanc was livid.

"Listen here you bald junkie. You are going to fix this hair problem with another potion or I'll blast you right here and now!" she demanded, making her staff glow to give off more threat.

Singed was not fazed.

"I can make you a potion, just tell me what you are looking for so I don't assume," he said calmly.

"I want hair. I want it to grow back so much I can cut it to where it was before, and I want it by tomorrow!" she said.

"Alright, well that's something I can whip up right now if you give me a few minutes," he said.

"Ok. Do it then,"

So Singed got to work. Using magical ingredients and aloe infusion, he was able to concoct a potion in only a few mixes and swirls.

"This should do what you want it to. Drink it now and you will have results in the morning."

Snatching the potion from his hand, Leblanc left without another word. Singed chuckled to himself. Some victories were worth waiting for.

 **xXxXx**

*Week 4, Saturday*

"Damn you, Singed! I wanted it on my head not my entire body! Bloody hell, I look like Nunu's YETI!"

 **xXxXx**

Hello, everyone! Author once again. Thanks for reading my stories, as always, and I hope you guys appreciated all these little ideas I come up with. Now I for one am a huge supporter of Movember and No Shave November. One's in support of Men's health and the other is a huge example of Women's empowerment! So if you or someone you know has suffered from testicular cancer or prostate cancer, just know that you've got so much support behind your recovery! So if you all got hairy for this month, give yourselves a round of applause.


End file.
